HEADSTONE: Chapter 8

Part truth and part fiction, HEADSTONE is the story of author Brian James’ nontraditional relationship with his father. Born in 1915, Brian’s father majored in mischief at an early age.

Chapter Eight

 

What a Friggin’ Beard

 

 

          Maybe it was the curse of Rasputin or the revenge of the Spanish Armada sailors, but, whatever the reason, my father needed a shave twice a day.  Now, because it took him a good three-quarters of an hour to get a clean shave, twice a day never happened too often.  Some guys get a few shaves to a blade; Dad needed a few blades to a shave.  His beard was so heavy he could never mow it with an electric.  It would stall!  You see, the facial hairs grew at all angles and directions.  The old man started under his eyes and machetied all the way to the beginnings of his chest hair.  Our bathroom would echo every swear word known to modern man when Dad was dealing with his demon whiskers.  He could turn a wet white facecloth deep fuchsia before he was finished.  Pops would ask me to run my hand over his barbed bristles, and the area could only be described as resembling coarse, heavy-duty sandpaper in texture.

          Mom used to say that Dad disliked shaving so much that it was what contributed to his social reclusiveness.  While the above curse may have prevented my father from interacting with individuals he never wanted to interact with period, it never stopped Junior from his social networking at Drake’s Café.  Some time after my father had passed on, I met the café’s owner outside my son’s elementary school and commented on what a character my dad was and that I, at least, missed him a whole lot.  Louie countered with, “Are you serious, kid?  Junior was what legends are made of…  We all miss that funny little son of a b***h like crazy.” 

          Drake’s wasn’t just Dad’s home away from home; it was his home.  It was an escape from the problems and pressures of everyday life, a place where he felt safe and at peace from his imagined tormentors.  He was never in a hurry to leave Drake’s, like he was in a hurry to get there from our house or from work. The dragoons never asked to play catch or for help with their homework when he needed to go to sleep.  No, someone else washed the dishes, swept the floor, and took out the trash.

The complete version of "Headstone" is available here.